


Ugly Sweater

by BitterTongue



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, F/M, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 22:11:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16921359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitterTongue/pseuds/BitterTongue
Summary: I’ve won the ugly sweater competition the last three years and i’m not gonna lose to you, the only other person competing.





	Ugly Sweater

**Author's Note:**

> Porting over from tumblr where I am Cordytriestowrite. Check me out!

I feel like the ugly sweater competition should be for charity? Like the avengers compete for a cause thats important to them at a big Christmas party. Its formalwear so you are the only one who forgoes looking nice for the sake of charity

I want Steve to be an ex or something. Maybe not a full ex but like something that never went anywhere or...reader confesses her feelings and he turns her down. Idk.

No no she asks him out and he doesn't respond so she is upset and embarrassed BUT he dresses up in an ugly sweater for her because he does like her but Steve is just super awkward 

 

A black tie gala was not the place for something so casual as a sweater, but for the Avenger's hosted Christmas Charity Gala it was the only thing you would wear. There were many ways to raise funds for the charity of each Avenger's choice, though most stuck with silent auctions and raffles. But not you, for the past three years you had raised money for your cause by winning the ugly sweater contest.  
It wasn't really an option, not at until you came along.   
“What do you wear to a gala anyway?”  
Tony shrugged, too focused on his latest project to turn around and see you lying face down on the couch he had added to the lab yet never found time to relax into.  
“Well I wear a suit. You could wear a suit.”  
You scoffed, “I don't own a suit, or a dress. I own nothing fit for such a nice event.”  
Tony turned around and you snickered. His eyes were magnified by the special goggles he was wearing, making him look like a weird cartoonish version of himself. He pulled the googles up onto his head and crossed his arms.  
“Listen, this isn't about looks, this is about raising money for something you care about. You could wear just about anything and I would make sure you get funding.”  
“So I could wear jeans?”  
Tony nodded  
“How about,” you paused, your eyes roaming the room for another possibility you could use to provoke your friend. “an Iron Man suit?”  
He rolled his eyes and turned back around.  
“You can wear whatever you wore to your last job's holiday party. I really don't care.”   
Your eyebrows rose as you conjured the image of yourself last year, before you came to work for Tony and the Avengers, working for an accounting firm whose party was held immediately after work in the conference room, no more than ten feet from your desk. You did still have that outfit…  
“So, just so I am clear,” you started, standing up and strolling over to the table. You continued once you stood opposite of Tony wanting to look him in the eye as he agreed to your terms. “You will fund my charity as long as I wear what I wore to the holiday party at the firm?”  
“Yes.”  
And with that Tony sealed his fate, as well as your own. That first year when you walked into the ballroom wearing a bright green sweater lined with gold colored plastic garland and a red stocking hand sewn to the front Tony had no choice but to go along with it. He made the first donation himself, as promised.  
For the past three years you had continued your tradition, spending the weeks before the big event hand making that year's sweater. Every year you were the only ‘winner’ of the ugly sweater contest and the donation of Tony Stark, which now was a match to the amount you earned from the guests of the gala who had come to look forward to your unique fashion and eclectic crafting skills.   
You donned this year's number, a dark blue jumper used as a backdrop to the scene you had crudely constructed. Your theme this year was Christmas Eve. Sitting in his sleigh and being pulled by reindeer was Santa himself, it was a toy you had found and hot glued to the fabric so thoroughly the fibers were hardened and inflexible. Just below this three dimensional scene were houses cut from felt and sewn on by hand. You had covered every rooftop in glitter which meant all of your as covered in glitter. Your shoulders were adorned with a line of trees, three on each side and held upright by a metal rod under the sweater. You were particularly proud of this feature as it took some engineering. Finally you topped your look off with a handmade headband, a large yellow star raising from its band.   
The gala was beautiful, as always, its ballroom grand and full. You did a lap around the room before rejoining Tony and Rhodey at the table.   
“Are they not back yet?” you asked as you sat down, half the team was still missing.  
“Friday said they returned about an hour ago.” Tony answered, pulling up Friday’s program through his purple tinted glasses. “Probably just getting ready.”  
You nodded and wiped your palms down the side of your pants. They felt clammy and you tried to settle your nerves with a few deep breaths. Rhodey tossed you a strange look before raising an eyebrow at Tony.  
“Let me explain.” Tony said, sparing a second to look at you. You nodded and with your permission he elaborated. “You know how her and Capsicle have been tiptoeing around each other since I hired her?”  
Rhodey nodded and you squeezed your eyes shut. You preferred not to see the pity on his face when he found out.  
“Well she finally asked him out.”  
Rhodey waited for the end of the story and a beat of silence overcame the table before he made a sound of understanding.   
“I'm sorry.”   
You wanted to lash out at the meaningless words. You wanted to tell him you don't need pity. Instead you nodded and released a sigh of frustration.  
“I just wish I had kept my mouth shut.”  
“This is why I don't mix business with pleasure.” Tony remarked, taking a sip of his sparkling water.  
“If that is true then why do I have Pepper's old job?” you said with a smirk.  
Tony shrugged one shoulder and pursed his lips, pouty that you called him out. He took another drink.  
“You sound like the kid. That's it, you're not to hang out any more. No more movies, no more rides to school-”  
“Pete's a good kid and you know it.” you challenged Tony's bluff and he folded easily, ending the conversation with a shrug.   
-  
“Looks like they finally made it.” Bruce voiced to the table, halfway through dinner. You looked up to see Sam strolling toward the table, followed close behind by Bucky, both wearing tailored suits that perfectly suited the dress code. Behind them, walking slow and favoring his left leg, was Steve Rogers.  
Steve wa as impossible to miss, not because he was late to dinner, not because he was limping, not because he was Captain America, but because he was wearing a hideous turtleneck sweater.   
The closer he got to the table the more horrified you became. From afar to could really only be offended by the colors of his outfit, a festive mix of green and red. Then he was closer and you could pick out a twinkle of yellow, blue, green, and red lights reflecting off wraps of garland, real lights, like the ones you wraps around a Christmas tree. The final obnoxious feature met your sense of hearing, a tinkling of small bells sounded off with every step he made.   
“Sorry we're late.” He quipped, making to sit down at the last empty seat at the table, that is before you violently rose from yours. Your chair made a loud noise as its legs heated against the floor.   
“Fuck you Steve Rogers.” you all but spat at him before making a beeline to the entrance hall.  
You could hear him coming after you, it was impossible not to hear those damn bells and their pathetic clacking ring. You waiting until you were a safe distance away from the ballroom to turn around and let him have it.  
“I cannot believe you wore that.” you began, your pitch high in agitation.  
“I just thought-”  
“No,” you said firmly, effectively cutting him off. “You didn't think. If you had you would have realized you're just kicking me while on down.”  
You begin to pace as your feelings toward Steve since he had left three days ago seeped into excess energy that needed to be burned.   
“So first you turn me down and now,” you scoff, near tears as you grasp the fuzzy pom poms dangling from the ends of your sweater, “now you take the one way I was guaranteed to win money for my charity. You could do literally anything and people will donate. This is all I have. How selfish can you get Rogers?”  
“I never turned you down.”   
“What?” you stopped walking, not understanding what he just said. You turned to back to him bewildered.  
“I never turned you down, I just didn't get around to responding.” Steve threw his head back and groaned. You couldn't tell if it was because of an injury or the argument.  
“I meant to tell you. I meant to say ‘I like you back’ I wanted to ask you to the gala a-as my date but then-”  
“You had to leave.”  
He nodded solemnly, eyes downcast.   
“I wanted this for so long and then I ruined it. The sweater was...well I guess I just wanted to...I made it myself right when I got back.”   
He was rambling now, and somehow managed to look adorably sorry despite the festive green and red fabric encasing his torso covered in bells and garland and garish, functional festive lights.   
“You didn't ruin anything.”  
You reached out and encircled your arms around his waist, letting your head rest against a plastic batch of garland that irritated the sensitive skin of your cheek. He tenderly brought his arms around your upper back, careful not to knock the tiny trees lining your shoulders. It took a few attempts to rest his chin atop your head, you could feel the star you had placed there moving and shifting as he found a safe spot.   
“I'm pretty sure we are going to get stuck like this.” Steve chuckled, shifting his chest side to side. You could feel his miniature metal bells snag on the reins of Santa's sleigh.  
“Maybe we should stop hugging then?” You proposed, not really wanting to part from the warm hold he had on you. You had thought, after being met only with silence in response to your confession of attraction that you would never know what it would feel like to be here.   
Steve pulled back, a bell catching on your sweater and falling to the floor. The tinkling was light as it dropped, the tiny flapper hitting the lip causing it to jingle and jangle as it bounced away. The ones still attached sang their own song as Steve pulled off the offensive pullover.  
“Steve, what are you doing?” You asked even though you could see exactly what he was doing. He threw the jumper to the side and kicked it away for good measure.  
“That thing was itchy.” He said offhandedly before wrapping you up in his arms again, less cautious now than before.  
You laughed, finding it impossible not to let out the sound after feeling so dreary before. Steve laughed with you, a low chuckle you could feel reverberate into all the hollow parts of your chest. You let the vibrations fill your empty spaces with every ounce of affection you held for the man holding you. You basked in the fondness you finally knew was reciprocated.  
Steve pulled back when Tony's voice came booming over an unseen loudspeaker.  
“It is time to announce the results of the charity contests starting with my favorite. Who wore their ugly sweater to this black tie event? We all know one personal assistant who did.”  
Steve held you at arm’s length, taking in your tacky sweater with its reindeer and sleigh and sloppy hand stitching. He lifted your chin and when your eyes met he grinned wide.  
“Time for you to win that contest.”  
And you did, unchallenged four years running.


End file.
